A little girl vanished 100 years ago. Her name was Sophie. Where did she go? An old house in Balmain. A portrait and perfume bottle hidden in a chimney. Unknown and untouched, while a century passed, their memory slowly fading. Glimpses of an eight year old girl and her school friend, missing, never found. The grief of those left behind, those who searched, those who yearned. Now a new search begins
Chapter 1 Author Note
This is a work of fiction.
Balmain is a suburb of Sydney where we lived for seven years. Our house was like the cottage described in this book. We bought it as told here. Our pleasure living in it and in Balmain are real.
However, while many locations and parts of the history of Balmain are true, some locations and most characters are fictitious. For those interested, the factual information behind this story is in the Appendix at the end of the book. More information on Balmain and adjacent parts of Sydney is available from sources such as the Balmain Public Library, the State Library of NSW and the Balmain Association.
The purpose of this novel is not to merge fiction and historical fact, but to use some historical facts from Sydney's early development and a range of geographical locations around Sydney Harbour as a canvas onto which a work of imagination is painted. Parts of the canvas are known facts from my early family history, or the history of the area. These are like occasional dots of paint giving reference points and shadowed outlines. All the intervening layered detail to make this word picture has been created within my mind. If some parts approximate but differ from history or current reality, this is entirely accidental. I apologise if it causes offense through appearing to misrepresent true facts.
The idea which became this novel began soon after we purchased our much loved Balmain cottage. We discovered a sepia photo of a small girl who had lived in the house about 100 years ago. Later, in a writing class, I was shown an ornate perfume bottle, and asked to imagine a story based on it. I pictured it as the treasured possession of the girl whose photo we had found and jotted down headings for a series of scenes which told her story. Those points, imagined over five minutes, are now this novel. It is an imagining that I hope gives pleasure. This is the purpose of this book.